Dear Wind Maker, from Your Throat’s Footnote

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Dear Wind Maker,

Each night I hear this awful howl, so strong I almost lose my bowels. And then I know a wind will blow, and soon I’m overcome with woe. For now I’m thrashing and cannot stop. With each bang, my head may pop.

For a moment, there is relief. I’m safe for now, but filled with grief. Time is up and now again, I must endure this endless pain.

While you may think it’s all breezy, I hang here, feeling queasy. To you it may seem like a breath, but I feel as if I’m close to death.

Please have mercy on me sir, for I cannot take another stir.

Your Throat’s Footnote

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